Dedicated: Chosen One
by corneroffandom
Summary: While sick, Heath accomplishes another Twitter faux pas.


Heath Slater feels like roadkill. Has for awhile, though he doesn't want to admit it. Drew McIntyre's been off... doing who knows what, finding himself or something, leaving it to him and Jinder Mahal to keep 3MB rocking on, and on top of that Wade Barrett is stuck in England waiting out his Visa issues, meaning that it's just Heath and Boodah holed up in the apartment the rare times the ginger isn't traveling for WWE events, leaving both of them bored and lonely. So he's sick- though he refuses to admit it- missing the Brit, and unsure what's going on with his band.

Thus he's not thinking all that clearly when he tweets a few hours before Raw that night, something about his being sick and Drew being his chosen one for the match tonight. Jinder looks over at him worriedly as soon as it's sent, the alert hitting his phone a second later, and he grimaces at his remaining bandmate. "What, man?"

"I don't think Wade will appreciate the wording of that tweet," is all Jinder says, never one to get too involved in the others' personal business. Heath watches as he continues preparing for the tag match later on, his shoulders slumping as he realizes. The Punjab is correct. He curses lowly before leaving his phone behind to take a hot shower, attempt to ease some of the ache and congestion that's overwhelming him. Except that the heat works against him, leaves him dizzy and even weaker than he was at the start, tripping over his feet as he struggles to put a towel around himself.

He's just stepped out into the main part of the locker room to get his clothes when he trips again and falls forward- just for someone to grab him and support him. He groans and mutters a slurred apology before looking up, shocked to find that it's Drew trying to help him get his feet back under him. "Drew, where the hell you been, man?" he asks, blinking and shaking his wet hair out of his eyes as this more than anything startles him back to awareness, regaining his balance as he tries to get a better look at him.

"Rockstar life, y'know, I just needed some time to myself to feel the energy and flow of the music again," he says with a faint shrug. "But when I saw your tweet, I knew where I was really needed at so... here I am." He examines Heath with a vaguely worried grimace. "You're sick?"

"Some flu, I think," he sighs. "Should be fine. It's good to see ya, man. Jinder deserves a tag partner on top of his game tonight."

"Alright, well, let's get this party rollin' then."

"Hell yeah, man," Heath agrees, Jinder joining them in time to do the 3MB fingers sign before they go their own ways- Heath to get dressed and the other two to discuss strategy. He can barely focus throughout the match, however, everything still a little vague before his eyes. The fast action in the ring only seems to be making him feel more ill, and he wants to turn his back on it, but he can't leave his band to their own devices. He'd always been an on-hand leader, and some flu isn't going to stop that. So he fights through his growing nausea and continues watching to the end and their loss.

He barely remembers making it backstage, or to the hotel room, but he does vaguely remember Drew and Jinder's unhappy grumbles the whole way. His head hurts and he wants to just lay down and sleep for a really long time, but Drew and Jinder's disgust is turning louder with each passing minute, so he grabs his laptop and drops onto his bed, turning Skype on. Wade's name is lit up and he smiles, clicking his name to start a Skype call with him. It takes a long time for Wade to accept, Heath's face falling forward as he fights to keep his eyes open. He notices when the glow of his laptop changes colors and he looks up, smiling to find himself staring at Wade... or, at least, the side of Wade's face, as he looks at something to the side of _his_ laptop. He frowns slightly, but before he can speak, Barrett beats him to it.

"Did you misdial?" he sneers. "Perhaps you meant to dial your _chosen one_? McIntyre? Our names aren't at all similar, you git."

Heath hesitates and stares at him, his thoughts running exceptionally slow as he tries to process this. "What...?" He glances around, frowning as he realizes something else. "Huh." Shrugging that off, he turns his attention back to Wade. "Why aren't ya lookin' at me? Brit..."

It's with an angry, almost evil sneer on his face that the other man finally turns to look at the ginger, but as soon as their eyes lock, he falters slightly. "You really do look like death, Heath," he says gruffly, some worry bleeding out of his gaze as he examines him as best as he can through the computer monitors.

"I feel like it," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I'm so tired..." He shakes his head and looks back at Wade, needing to explain what was clearly bugging his former Nexus leader. "He's not my chosen one, by the way. I didn't mean anythin' by that tweet, just elluding to his former nickname 'n' all... there were some rumors going around that he might be going back to it. Jinder'n'me were havin' cheap laughs over it, because we knew he wouldn't leave 3MB high'n'dry like that..."

The silence that follows this is long, almost painful, and Heath begins to think that Wade isn't buying it, won't forgive him for such a thoughtless comment, but finally he sighs out a deep breath. "Fine, Ginger. I'll believe you this time." He smiles slightly when Heath ducks his head in relief, wishing desperately that he could touch him, take care of him until he's over whatever bug he'd picked up. The sooner his visa issues get rectified, the better. He misses his life, he misses his career... and mostly, he misses Heath. Getting an idea, he leans forward. "Where are the other two, anyway?"

Heath glances around once more, his findings not different from what he'd noticed earlier. "I think they left," he admits. "I didn't notice, but yeah..."

Wade frowns at the thought of them leaving an ill Slater behind without a word, but it's convenient for what he wants to do, so who is he to complain. "Now," he continues, putting more authoritative control in his voice. "Lay down."

Heath blinks in confusion. "Huh?"

"Lay down, Ginger, and close your eyes. I'll talk to you until you fall asleep." It takes a few more moments for this to register with Heath but finally he nods blankly and lays down, face turned towards the laptop screen as Wade stares at what of him he can see in the webcam's screen. He talks simply and softly, telling him about various things he'd experienced while back home in Britian, his voice a nonstop rumble as Heath's somewhat congested breathing relaxes, grows steady and regular. "Ginger?" No answer comes and he smiles, wishing he could actually see him sleeping comfortably. _Soon,_ he has to console himself with. "Good night then."


End file.
